Queen of Love

“Oh! Of course.”

Genevieve wished she could say she was now alone in the bathroom, but some secretary was having a hushed conversation over the phone with her boyfriend – or was it her mother? – in another stall. Genevieve lowered the lid on the toilet before wiping it down with a disinfectant she carried in her purse. She then sat down and looked at her messages again.

Nothing new. Aya must have been at work and sent such a deliciously dirty request over her break. Must be nice!

Yet wasn’t this what Genevieve had asked for the last time she was in Tokyo? Wasn’t this the exact sort of thing she had instructed Aya to do if they wanted to take their relationship to the next level?

“Catch me off guard,” she had purred to Aya over their breakfast in her hotel suite, shortly before Aya rushed off to work in a clean change of clothes. “I don’t want to see your dirty ideas coming.”

Here they were. Coming in hot – and strong.

So, if I don’t send her a picture of my goods right this second, she’ll cancel our phone call tomorrow night? They had scheduled a time when they would both be available to sit in their rooms and video chat. Genevieve looked forward to showing off some of her prized orchids – and maybe what she kept beneath her robe. Plus, it’s my first chance to see Aya’s place! They hadn’t gone back to her apartment the last time Genevieve was in Tokyo because they were cautious about being photographed together, but Genevieve could hardly wait any longer. She yearned to know if Aya slept on a raised bed or a cushy, comfortable futon on the floor. Either way, it would be 100% her.

(Aya had already told her it was a simple mattress and headboard from Muji. Genevieve didn’t care. She wanted to know what the bedspread looked like, so she could imagine herself on it. Naked, preferably.)

This was it. This was what Genevieve asked for. Spontaneity!

“All right.” She waited for the woman in the nearby stall to respond to the person on the other end of her phone. While a string of heated Malay hit the air, Genevieve rattled against her seat as she pulled up her skirt and stuck her phone between her legs. I can’t tell if this is hot as hell or so embarrassing! Either way, her face was red.

And her picture was awfully blurry in that dark bathroom stall.

“How’s this?” she texted alongside the photo. “I found a quiet spot, but it’s dark. I’m currently meeting with my financial advisers. I have to keep this secret, you know.”

Aya didn’t respond. Meanwhile, Genevieve sat with her proverbial pants down.

It’ll have to do. Genevieve stood up, fixed her clothes, and washed her hands at the sinks. By the time she left the ladies’ room, the woman in the stall continued her conversation with her boyfriend. Or her mother. It really was hard to tell.